


Fix the music

by Elijah_Dentwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Blood Sharing, Bloodletting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elijah_Dentwood/pseuds/Elijah_Dentwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for SPN Kink prompt:<br/>For some reason Michael decided that his one true vessel needed some awesome powers of his own and bled into Dean's mouth when he was just a baby. Cue s4 and Castiel and he has orders so pretty soon Dean gets addicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix the music

Dean cuts deeper every time. A beaded line of red in the crook of Cas' arm isn't enough any more. Now he's cutting so deep that he can't get all of the blood into his mouth. Cas holds his arm over his chest, knowing Dean will lick the spill from his skin greedily. 

When this started Dean thought he wanted to fuck the angel. He's been attracted to men before, and though he's always brushed it aside when he first meets Castiel, Angel of Lord, he knows it's just supposed to happen. Even if it's blasphemous. Even if he's always pushed away that side of himself. 

What made it easy was Cas, who seemed to pick each move by whether it would interest Dean's dick. He was so straight-laced and keen to make sure he was doing God's work, it was hard to figure out where in God's plan it said he ought to look so wantonly needy in Dean's direction. 

Dean didn't even have to win him over; one day he's driving and the impala grinds to almost a stop, he has to ease her over to the side of the road. He's cursing softly, smoothing his hands over the steering wheel. 'S'okay, baby,' he soothes.   
~

The tape slips mid-song and he can hear it spooling out, clogging up the take deck. Dean curses and reaches out a hand to quickly eject it, but Baby's engine makes a grinding noise and her speed drops. Dean eases her to the side of the road, smoothing his hands over the steering wheel and mumbling soothing nothings to his car. 

Before he can get out there's a swooping noise, but it isn't really time for angels, unless they know a lot about cars and don't mind getting their hands greasy. 

Cas looks at him from the passenger seat; Angel of the Lord, eyes always questioning. 

'I stopped the car, Dean,' Cas says.

'You better not have-' Dean doesn't finish his sentence, he flings open his door and pops the hood. Nothing looks wrong. As he looks the engine turns over – he steps to the side and through the windscreen spots Cas leaned over to the driver's side, turning the key in the ignition without his hands. 

Dean pushes the hood shut and flings himself back into the car, 'Fine,' he says, 'what do you want?' He has to be short with Cas because it's the way he can think to be. He's wanted to fuck the angel since he landed, and Dean's been brushing away that side of himself for years. Cas isn't making it easy though; he gives Dean looks that practiced whores haven't perfected and his every move seems to be made for maximum influence on Dean's dick. 

Cas doesn't move back over much, not even when Dean grips on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything either. Dean can feel the angel looking him over but he stares right ahead, ignoring how tight his jeans are feeling. He shifts in his seat and gives a little cough. 

'Can you at least fix the music?' 

A heartbeat later and Metallica fills the impala. Out of the corner of his eye Dean watches Cas make some small twisting movements with his fingers and the volume drops down to background noise. 

Dean lets himself look over now, because Cas still hasn't said much and it's bothering him. The angel meets his gaze. Dean hates the feeling that bubbles up into his chest; it's a need he feels like he's been carrying around forever now. 

Cas slides up close, blue eyes tipped down towards his mouth. Dean doesn't want to go back to hell again, but an angel would know if this was wrong. An angel would have more self-control. Dean dips down his head and kisses Cas, tentative at first. Cas' lips are soft and encouraging; he opens his mouth and their tongues touch. Dean thinks Cas' mouth is warm and sweet. He tastes like childhood candy; hastily eaten rainbow colored treats, hidden under his pillow and drawn out under the cover of darkness to half and share with Sammy. 

Soon he's shoved Cas against the door of the impala. The angel's straight-laced, accountant demeanor is coming undone. Coat tugged off, shirt open, pants half down. Dean doesn't understand when Cas takes out a knife and cuts into his chest, not until he bleeds. The cut is light and beads of blood well up in the deepest parts. Dean presses his mouth against the wound because it feels natural and obvious. 

He licks away the blood that has pooled on Cas' skin then sucks at the wound, teasing more from the small tears. His lips press tightly against Cas' chest and he can feel a pulse throbbing against them, an insistent need from the body beneath him. He can feel a firm grip on either side of him, urging him towards the blood. The feeling seeping through him is satisfying, comforting. He feels safe and powerful, as though Cas is flooding him with strength and confidence. 

There's nothing left and when Dean moves back he finds himself licking at the smudges of blood on his own lips. Cas watches as though he's sucking his cock, eyes heavy and full of lust. 

The feeling drops away so fast that Dean's left feeling empty. Guilt and anxiety edge around his mind, luring his thoughts back to the familiar darkness that has dogged him since Hell. He slumps against the seat of the impala and stares out the windscreen and with a shift of air Cas is gone from beside him. 

Dean runs a hand over his hair and curses, pulling his own t-shirt straight and bringing the impala back to life. He turns the volume dial high as it will go and drowns out his thoughts with music. 

* 

'Fuck,' Dean breathes out. 

His lips are parted, gasping out breaths when he remembers to. Cas is in his lap, head tipped back in pleasure. Dean's hands are pressed into the small of his back, holding him easily. 

Dean can't believe how much he wants this. It hasn't just taken over his thoughts, it's consuming his body. He craves Cas in a way that scares him, makes him think this has got to be more than just wanting to fuck. It's probably something to do with Cas pulling him out of Hell, something that's effected both of them. He wants to talk to Sam about it, but there are too many reasons not to. 

Cas has the knife again and Dean guesses this is an angel thing. He remembers it felt good, but the feeling that followed was terrible. Cas has already pulled the knife across his skin, opening up a crimson strip from just above his collar bone and down a few inches. Hands are pressed lightly at the back of his head urging him forward. This angel pulled him from Hell, he can't deny him. Not when a hand presses against the print on his arm, not when his cock is buried to the hilt in his ass. 

Cas rides him hard and his orgasm pulls him away from the blood, eases him through the loss of it. The angel stays with him after, pressed against his back whilst he falls asleep. 

Dean dreams that he's a child and his mom is making him sandwiches. Her belly is big because he's going to have a brother or sister soon. She has to stand oddly at the worktop and it makes Dean giggle. She slides his plate onto the table in front of him and sits down beside him. She smooths out his hair whilst he grabs at his sandwich, lamenting that it's never laid flat. 

''ens 'e 'omingf,' Dean says through a mouthful of food. 

'Don't talk whilst eating,' she says, though she's smiling 'and remember, you might have a sister. We don't know yet.' She rubs her swollen stomach fondly. 

Dean makes a face, because he doesn't want a sister. He wants a brother so there's someone to play soldiers with, someone with good toys. 

'You'll be a great big brother, Dean,' she says, and slides his chair closer so that she can pull him into a hug. It's hard to hug her properly and it gives him the giggles again as he tries to wrap his arms around her, and she's laughing too. 

In his sleep Dean presses back against Cas and sinks further into the mattress. 

Dean dreams about blood. He dreams that someone is drowning him in it; pouring it over him until it's thick in his mouth and nose. He swallows and swallows until he no longer can and it begins to pour down into his lungs, sending his breathing into juddering spasms. Quickly it's over; he isn't breathing, but he's still there. 

He wakes up and turns over, not wanting to open his eyes. He presses into Cas because he wants the comfort, but there's something wet against his lips and the tip of his tongue tastes something sickly sweet and warm. He nestles closer and works his mouth against the sweetness until he falls asleep again. 

*   
As he grows stronger his resolve grows weaker. Soon Cas' cuts aren't enough, when Dean has the knife he cuts so deep that he can't take in all of the blood and greedily licks it from Dean's skin after the wound has offered up all it has. They still fuck and it eases the drop in feeling after he stops, but it isn't enough. No kiss, no touch or orgasm is enough deep enough or hard enough to satisfy this need that burns into him every minute of every day. 

Cas doesn't explain until Dean's gone too far. He cuts Cas so deeply that he sobs and vomits, because he might be an angel but the pain is still there. He can't heal quickly enough to keep up with Dean, and he admits the reasons. Heaven is cutting him off. He was supposed to keep feeding him, he's Michael's vessel and Michael wants him strong – he bled in his mouth as a baby - but Cas has broken away from his orders. He doesn't want Dean to be Michael's, he wants him to have free will. But Dean is so addicted now, and so broken without the blood. 

Dean should feel betrayed but instead he licks the blood from his fingers, from around the too-far wound he's made. He cleans Cas up and waits until his skin knits back together.


End file.
